


Cut

by MorganaNK



Category: Inspector Lynley - All Media Types, Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganaNK/pseuds/MorganaNK
Summary: What if Barbara had dealt with the end result of 'If Wishes Were Horses' and the fallout during 'In Divine Proportion' differently?An AU fic





	Cut

**Author's Note:**

> Property of Elizabeth George and the BBC, no copyright infringement intended  
> 'Cut' is performed by Plumb and written by Brandon Arbuckle / Jeremy Bose / Matt Bronleewe / Tiffany Arbuckle

Being here is killing me. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that I am still alive. A large part of me wishes that I wasn’t.

_I'm not a stranger  
No, I am yours  
With crippled anger  
And tears that still drip sore_

Life is too bright, too loud, too sharp. Everything hurts, and yet I bury it under a mask, a disguise that I pull on each morning, tamping down on the loathing bubbling away just below the surface. I feel as if I am a zombie, an animated corpse, an empty vessel, a bag of flesh and bone. I force myself to go through the motions of living when all I’m really doing is existing. 

_A fragile flame aged  
With misery  
And when our eyes meet  
I know you'll see_

I’ve got so much fury inside of me, more than I have ever experienced before. The death of my brother, the neglect from my parents, the disintegration of my family; as strange as it seems, this is one hundred times worse.

_I do not want to be afraid  
I do not want to die inside just to breathe in  
I'm tired of feeling so numb  
Relief exists I find it when  
I am cut_

My scars from the shooting are ugly and raw, but I feel as if I in some way deserve them. They are the penance I pay for being such a vile human being. When I look at them in the mirror I feel as if they are taunting me, telling me how useless I am at everything. I couldn’t even manage to die.

The first time I saw them when I was alone at home, I felt sick. I clawed at them with my nails, trying to rend them from my body. When that failed I resorted to other measures, breaking open a disposable razor, removing the blade, and then digging it deep into my flesh. As the blood ran I there was disgust but, at the same time, an almost blessed relief.

_I may seem crazy  
Or painfully shy  
And these scars wouldn't be so hidden  
If you would just look me in the eye  
I feel alone here and cold here  
Though I don't want to die  
But the only anaesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside_

Now I have started this self-mutilation I can’t stop. It brings me fleeting comfort, allows me to function, to subsist, however briefly. I crave that brief moment of semi-normality. It has become my drug.

_Pain  
I am not alone  
I am not alone_

Your presence used to soothe and reassure me. When I was by your side, I believed that I could conquer the world.

I know now that I was a fool.

I know that you are worried about me, but I can’t let your gentle concern break down my defences. I want you to see me, to look into my eyes deep down into my soul and really see me. I want you to see what I am doing, and rage at me. I want to drown in the rain of your fury at my actions.

I want you to break the cycle of my self-destruction. 

I want you to stop me from crumbling to dust.


End file.
